by Annie Dalton
There was quite a party by that time. The two detectives had popped back, with a police photographer. I think he was hoping to capture Minerva’s spirits on one of his photographic plates.
I remember looking around the parlour and just feeling so honoured to be part of this happy ending. “It’s so cool that Minerva wants the girls to come and live with her,” I said to Lola.
My friend was watching Brice chatting to his see-thru spirit buddies in the corner. “Wouldn’t you love to know how he learned to speak Spook?” she grinned.
“That has to be a good story!” I agreed.
Lollie’s face suddenly took on a listening expression. “I can’t believe it’s that time already!” she groaned. “I was just getting into the Victorians too.”
I couldn’t believe it either, but when the Agency needs you to move on, they totally let you know about it.
“This is so unfair,” I complained. “I mean, I know things will work out but I wanted to SEE them work out.”
Brice looked over. “You still can, you ditzy angel,” he called. “And when we get back I’ll prove it to you.”
Then the entire parlour lit up and we blasted off back to our heavenly home.
“You’d better have a really good reason for dragging us down to the Angel Watch Centre at this hour,” I told Brice yawning.
It was early next morning and I’d been hoping for a nice lie-in. Instead we were tiptoeing past flickering booths where AW personnel were working vigilantly at their computers.
Brice let us into a private cubicle usually reserved for Agency staff. “Stop moaning, Beeby.” He slid a glittering disk into the machine.
A screen lit up and a familiar scene appeared; red dirt and eucalyptus trees wavering in a heat haze.
“I can’t believe you were able to swing this!” Lollie gasped.
He tapped his nose. “Inside information,” he said smugly.
Brice had somehow acquired one of the cosmic recordings the Agency uses for training purposes. From an angelic point of view, Earth’s past, present and future all occur simultaneously. So it was technically possible for us to see what had happened after the telegram arrived at the police station in Alice Springs.
We watched in total silence as Aussie cops in sun helmets finally tracked Sid Lovelace down at the mission house. It seemed that the missionaries had actually taken pity on him after all. Lola and I gasped as the old man, still weak from fever, reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter so old it had almost disintegrated along its folds. The writing was just barely visible, but after Brice had enhanced the image, we were able to make out the incriminating passage requesting Alfred Lilly to falsify certain legal documents. At the bottom of the letter you could clearly read Uncle Noel’s signature.
Lovelace handed the letter over to the police, and I felt a terrible weight roll off him, like the lifting of a curse.
This is SO cosmic, I thought. We saved him, and now he’s saved Georgie and Charlotte, so he can start to forgive himself.
” Show’s over, folks!” Brice said brusquely. “I’d better put this back before anyone notices.”
Lola and I agreed to meet up with him later at Guru. By this time we were wide awake and extremely peckish.
“Can you believe Brice actually stole that disk?” Lola giggled as we breezed into our favourite breakfast hang-out. “The guy’s a total maverick!”
“I’ll say. I’d love to know what he was up to that night, when he left us with those kids.”
Lola’s expression changed. ” Actually I do know, but you mustn’t tell him I told you.”
I was covered in shame when Lollie told me that Brice had gone to help the spirit of one of the Ripper’s victims. The poor girl was so traumatised that she needed a lot of angelic assistance to help her cross over to the Next World.
“Why ever didn’t he say?” I exclaimed.
“I guess he thought you wouldn’t believe him,” Lola said. “You do tend to be a bit hard on him.”
And suddenly Lola and I were having our first proper conversation in months. I admitted how shocked and jealous I’d been when I realised she and Brice were together.
She nodded solemnly. “I know. But you’ll always be my soul-mate, carita! I wouldn’t just drop you for some - you know - guy!”
We were still having a heart-to-heart over our breakfast pastries when Brice came in with Reuben and his bizarre mate Chase.
“Brice has been showing us a picture of your Minerva,” Reuben said beaming, and I got the funny feeling he knew something we didn’t.
“Hey, don’t ruin my story,” objected Brice. “I found a book on Victorian mediums and there she was. She eventually became quite famous. Here’s a picture.”
Time is so weird. It seemed like only yesterday when that photograph was taken, and in my time scheme it was. Yet here it was in a book written more than a century later, by a sceptical academic who thought all mediums were frauds and charlatans.
The black and white portrait showed Minerva in a lace cap looking v. stern and Victorian. Light seemed to have leaked into the camera, inadvertently creating some weirdly extraterrestrial-type FX.
I stared at the three featureless blobs beside her. The photographer had snapped us at the exact moment we beamed back to Heaven.
“This is my favourite bit!” Brice pointed to the caption.
“Minerva Temple and her angelic advisers,” I read. “The heavenly trio famously helped Scotland Yard solve the notorious Scrivener case.” Underneath the author had written, “An obvious fake.”
We all howled with laughter. This is one of the happiest moments of my life, I thought.
“So what was it like, going on a mission with your evil nemesis, Melanie?” Chase asked me.
Chase, otherwise known as Mowgli, mostly hangs out with the animal kingdom and is not known for his tact. I really wished the ground would open up and swallow me. The entire cafe instantly went silent. Everyone was staring at me, obviously interested to hear my answer. I felt my face grow bright red.
“Well, actually—” I began then I stopped.
This matters, Melanie, I told myself. It matters what you say here. Don’t try to wriggle out of it. Don’t try to please anybody. Just answer him truthfully.
Meanwhile Brice was trying to look as if he didn’t give a monkey’s what I thought.
I forced myself to meet his eyes and I gave him a rueful grin.
“It was educational,” I said finally. “Unexpectedly educational.”
About the Author
Annie Dalton has been shortlisted for the Carnegie medal and won the Nottingham Children’s Book Award and the Portsmouth Children’s Book Award.The twelve Angel Academy books (previously known as Agent Angel), became an international best selling series. Annie lives overlooking a Norfolk meadow with a ruined castle, in a row of cottages that were rescued from bulldozers and lovingly rebuilt by a band of hippies.
www.anniedaltonwriter.co.uk
Also by Annie Dalton
Urban Fantasy Books
Night Maze
The Alpha Box
Naming the Dark
The Rules of Magic
Angel Academy Series
Winging it
Losing the Plot
Flying High
Calling the Shots
Fogging Over
Fighting Fit
Making Waves
Budding Star
Keeping it Real
Going for Gold
Feeling the Vibes
Living the Dream
The Afterdark Trilogy
The Afterdark Princess
The Dream Snatcher
The Midnight Museum
Swan Sister
Friday Forever
Zack Black & the Magic Dads
Ways to Trap a Yeti
Cherry Green, Story Queen
Invisible Threads co-written with Maria Dalton
World 9 stories
Ferris Flee
t the Wheelchair Wizard
How to Save a Dragon
Moonbeans stories
Magical Moon Cat: Moonbeans & the Dream Cafe
Magical Moon Cat: Moonbeans & the Shining Star
Magical Moon Cat: Moonbeans & the Talent Show
Magical Moon Cat: Moonbeans & the Circus of Wishes
Credits
Cover Illustration by Maria Dalton & Louisa Mallet
Lily Highton
Alistair Johnston
Juan Casco
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
Also by Annie Dalton
Credits